Impossible Choice

I’m not the type of person that lets other people make choices for me. I look at all the facts, analyze both the long- and short-term effects that will result from my choice, and then choose. So why can’t I do that now?

I am faced with a conundrum wrapped in an enigma with no clear-cut answer. It’s like Roseanne Roseanadana used to say, “If it’s not one thing, it’s another. It could be this, or it could be that.” Maybe I’ve been forced to make too many choices in my life. How would you like your steak: rare, medium, well done, or one of the half steps in-between? Do you want regular or high-test gas? Do you want a soft pillow or a firm one? The choices are never-ending, but I’ve always been able to make an intelligent choice until now. Naturally, I could just walk away, which means I’ve chosen not to choose, but that’s really just a copout and a black mark on my integrity. No, I will stand here and choose one or the other based on the merits.

From behind me, a male voice calls out, “Hey buddy, just choose one and pay the cashier. I haven’t got all day, and you’re holding up the line.” Why doesn’t that cretin grasp the seriousness of the situation? Then again, maybe he’s right. Yes, that’s precisely what I’ll do.

No more deliberation. No more hesitation. Throwing caution to the wind, I thrust my arm forward, but my fingers won’t respond. Right Twix or Left Twix, I just can’t choose. Out of frustration, I grab a Three Musketeers bar. No wait, that’s wrong too. D’Artagnan was a Musketeer, so it should be Four Musketeers, shouldn’t it?